TruFax
by Punk-Out
Summary: A compilation of oneshots based on true stories and happenings. Contains/will probably contain child!Puckurt, drunk Puckurt and a very annoyed and disgruntled Kurt. Slash.


**A/N: So. I know I shouldn't be starting anything new, but these are just short one shots based on funny stories or happenings. This was from my niece and her friend at my nephews birthday party. Fun times.  
**_"They're embroiled in a custody battle over an imaginary baby..."_  
**I  
**It happened at a birthday party. All the children in the neighbourhood had been invited, and were playing well together (though most steered clear of the strong-willed individual that was Rachel Berry, although Finn Hudson, the birthday boy, seemed absolutely enamoured with her). Elizabeth Hummel smiled and sat back as she watched the children run, scream and play. Kurt flitted between the Jones' sassy little girl, Brittany and the sullen Latina girl (Santana, Libbie thought) that she had dragged into the yard with her, and Noah Puckerman, Finn's closest friend. Quinn Fabray perched delicately on a plastic chair, sipping at a cup of juice and watching the roughhousing with distaste. Mike and Tina had bonded immediately over a Chinese finger trap and Arthur was dancing wildly across the lawn, spinning until he dropped to his bottom, swaying unsteadily before shaking it off and springing back to his feet. Occasionally others would join him; usually it was Brittany, until Santana pouted and stepped in, pulling the blonde away to the corner of the yard until Artie's next turn.

She turned her head as the screen door thumped open and Burt stepped out, balancing trays of snacks in his arms. Carole Hudson followed, laughing at something Burt had said. It would take him years, but he would recover from this; Kurt, if no one else, would ensure that. Libbie smiled and then winced, cradling her head and curling into herself. Burt was there in an instance, whispering to her and stroking back her hair away from her face. He was an amazing husband, and an even better man. There was no one she would rather leave her son with...

"You okay now Libbie?" He asked quietly, strong, sure hands cradling her neck and cheek. She breathed deeply and grinned up at him. His hat was laying on the ground, abandoned in his rush to aide her. His hair (what was left of it) had greyed prematurely and most had been pulled out in stress-induced fits. True she had met him just out of high school and they had married fairly early in their relationship, but he wasn't that much older than her (well, after ten years together, a fourteen year gap didn't seem like such a big deal), not enough to warrant untimely balding. She shook her head and ran an affectionate hand over the smooth skin of her husbands head, resisting the tears stinging her eyes.

"I'm fine, don't you worry. Now, Mrs. Hudson looks like she's struggling; why don't you go finish helping her. I'll be fine sweetheart." Burt shot her one last uncertain look but obeyed, carefully avoiding the hyperactive children. Libbie laughed and swept another glance over the yard. Kurt and the Puckerman boy were taking turns pushing the swing that Ruth Puckerman had brought to settle six month old Sarah in before she hastily packed the infant up and carted her to her Nana's so Ruth could fill a last minute shift. Libbie spared a brief moment wondering about the husbands whereabouts before pushing it away; it wasn't her business. Her thoughts were interrupted by her son, his big clear eyes shining with tears and the pout that Burt could never resist firmly on his lips. Noah followed close behind, frowning so hard that his nose scrunched up. "Baby? What's wrong?"

"Momma! Noah took my baby!"

"No I didn't! It was my baby first!" Noah retaliated, balling his fist and looking like he was resisting the urge to stomp his foot. Kurt, however, had no qualms.

Libbie's eyebrows went up and she blinked, thinking over that statement. She didn't remember bringing any dolls, but maybe one of the girls had. "What do you mean Kurt?"

Kurt huffed and tossed his head. "We were playing with the swing, and my baby was sitting in it, but Noah moved her!"

"I was there first, it's my baby!" Noah said. "And it's a _boy_ not a girl! Duh!"

Libbie rested both hands over her face as the boys continued to argue, muffling her giggles. Burt came up behind her, aiming for silence but just on this side of too noisy. His hands came to rest of her shoulders. "What're they fighting about?"

Libbie could only shake her head in response.

"Boys, wanna explain to me exactly what happened?" Burt asked, crouching down to their level. Carole was watching them from the snack table, a bemused expression on her face. Libbie smiled and tweaked Burt's hat; Burt dutifully ignored her. Kurt took a deep breath and began to explain.

"We were playing pretend and swinging her and Noah kept changing the baby! I kept telling him that it's a girl, but he wouldn't listen and then he took it!"

"That's because it's mine, and it's a boy!"

Libbie snorted and tossed her head back. Kurt looked bemused for a moment before losing interest in his mothers fit and turned his attention back to Burt. Noah ignored her all together and crossed his arms petulantly. Before it could escalate further Carole called them all for cake. By the time they had all finished their dessert Noah and Kurt were out in the field playing catch together, baby forgotten. Libbie leaned on Burt and snickered softly.

"Our baby has just engaged in his first ever custody battle; they grow up so quick!" She wiped a fake tear from her eye. Burt grunted, crossing his arms and clearly not as amused as she was. Kurt stumbled and Noah caught him, turning it into a game of tag that overtook the lawn in minutes.

"I'll be keeping my eye on that boy," he muttered as Noah shoved Kurt out of the range of Artie's "It" contaminated hands.

Years later Burt eyed up the mohawked punk that Kurt brought home for Friday dinner and demanded information (he didn't play nice, not when his little boys heart was on the line) with Carole carefully supervising the conversation and Kurt staring at the table, red faced and mortified. Finn watched, a mildly confused expression on his face and Puck answered all the questions honestly, holding Kurt's hand under the table.

All through dinner, the niggling thought of, _'Noah Puckerman sounds familiar'_ bothered him, but he couldn't quite place where he knew it from.


End file.
